Of Feet and War
by PromiseThis
Summary: Break and Sharon had to agree - Oz and Gilbert sucked at playing footsie.


Yet another prompt fill- but not smut this time! Just for "Oz and Gil playing footsie (or flirting with your feet, basically, if you are unfamiliar with the term)." However... it's more of a failed attempt. I apologize since the anon requester probably wanted mushy times but instead this happened, haha. Started this one a long time ago on the meme and never finished it until now.

Not really any warnings. You needn't even view it as pairing fic if you don't want to.

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"Ah, sorry, Gil."

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The first touch was completely accidental.

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It was a sunny afternoon thick with peaceful atmosphere- well, as peaceful as the atmosphere could be when the particular lot of them were all seated at the same table. Xerxes Break, Sharon Rainsworth, Gilbert Nightray, Oz Vessalius, and Alice. There wasn't really anything of importance to be discussed this teatime, so the conversation was casual and random as they all enjoyed their tea and (what Break didn't hoard of the)treats.

Oz had been happily swinging his legs with his chin leaning on one hand and the other twirling his fork above his cake, debating which strawberry to devour first, lazily enjoying the light conversation- when the corner of his boot nicked Gil in the shin and the other man jumped.

The blond apologized, stilling his legs, and Gil blinked at him a few times before giving a slight smile and turning back to catch whatever it was Sharon had been saying.

Oz regarded his servant fondly for a moment before popping a strawberry into his mouth with an overly-innocent grin.

Hmm.

Lazy days were nice, but could get rather boring...

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The second touch and thereafter were completely on purpose.

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Gilbert was just lifting his cup to his lips when he felt a soft brush against his ankle and froze mid-sip, eyes darting to his younger master in question. The boy was looking down, merrily going about eating his cake, and the others were sitting out of reach, so the adopted Nightray mentally shrugged it off as an accident and finished sipping his pleasantly strong tea. Sharon was talking about taking Alice out for a daytrip and that sounded wonderful as it meant more peace for him.

A moment later the touch against his ankle was back, and Gil flinched before he could catch himself.

Oz wasn't shifting, so the teen was no longer swinging his legs, nor did he seem to be paying Gil any attention, but...

The brief thought that there could be a cat brushing against his ankles made Gil pale in horror for a brief second before he pushed it from mind- no, that was clearly a boot- it happened again.

This time, the touch lingered on the inside of his ankle before trailing up his calf a few centimeters- dragging the fabric of his pants up some before disappearing again. Gil could feel his cheeks heating and willed away the blush with as much resistance as he could muster, eyes flickering between Oz and the others.

Was it accidental? Or was Oz meaning to tease him? Certainly not get his immediate attention as Oz wasn't looking at him...

_Again!_

Now- Oz's right boot was running back and forth along the inner side of his left shoe. Gilbert stared firmly down at his cup when the touch didn't stop and tried not to start nervously tapping his fingers against the tablecloth. If it was on purpose, then what-

There.

Oz glanced up and they made eye contact. Mischief and amusement sparkled in those green eyes, while Oz brushed the inside of Gil's ankle again, and then looked away with a grin.

"That sounds nice, Alice. I bet you'll look cute in whatever new dress you get!"

Alice flushed at Oz's words but continued denying the desire to shop as she had been before- insisting to them all the only good thing one could buy shopping was meat.

A game.

It was definitely Oz playing games then. The question now was the rules and goal of the game. Was it playing to get a reaction out of him? Was he supposed to remain still, or expected to play along? Refusing to play at all was a worse idea, as Gil didn't even want to ponder possible penalty torment or even just Oz's pouty disappointed face.

Far from pouting at that moment however, Oz was trying his hardest to at least look like he was listening to teatime conversation without laughing. He could tell with just a corner glance that Gil was already over-analyzing the situation. It figured _Gil _could make feet into something difficult.

Well then...

Oz ran his boot up the inside of Gil's leg again, making sure to drag the fabric up just to be all the more distracting. Gil's lip twitched, pink slowly starting to creep across his face. Heh.

Tipping his foot at an angle, Oz let the fabric fall and then tried teasing at the back of Gil's knee. Gil's fingers started drumming irritably on the table, color darkening on his face. _How long can you hold out, Gil~?'_Oz wondered to himself gleefully.

"Oi, Seaweed-head." Alice was suddenly staring at Gil intently.

"_What!?"_Gil burst out defensively, everyone turning to look at him puzzled.

"If you're just going to stare at it, can I have your cake?"

Gilbert opened his mouth to retort, only to snap it shut again and blush harder in embarrassment. Of _course _the rabbit hadn't noticed anything more. Taking a deep breath, cheeks returning to a more normal color in relief, Gil handed over the plate with a steady hand- trying not to falter under Break and Sharon's curious eyes- with Oz's boot still tickling at the back of his knee.

Right as Alice grabbed hold of the plate, letting out a small happy noise at the 'gift', Gilbert yelped and jerked back as if the plate burned, red right back where it seemed to belong on his face. The others looked at their dark-haired companion as if he were crazy, and Oz had to lift a hand to his mouth to cover the smirk.

Alice blinked widely before frowning, "If you want it so bad, why did you hand it over!?"

"No, no, it's fine!" Gil waved her off with a huff, putting a palm to his face in frustration and shooting a glare sideways at Oz through the gaps in his fingers. Oz licked happily at the frosting on his fork, looking absolutely delighted.

Just the moment before, Oz had shoved his foot right up the inside of Gil's thigh. Nearly to-! That was playing dirty!

_'Why that little...!'_

"Haha, that sure was nice of Gil wasn't it, Al—_ice!?_" Oz's voice cracked on the last syllable and his fork clattered loudly to the table. Alice was looking at him like he'd lost his mind, and Oz had the decency to blush before he put a hand behind his head and laughed it off. Gil had shoved right at the inside of his knee where his leg was bare.

While Oz had suspected Gil might retaliate given enough prodding if he didn't hyperventilate first- his servant could be cutely childish and a bit of a sore loser after all- the sudden firm shove and cold leather against normally untouched skin had given him a good startle he berated himself for not being able to hold in.

_Touché._

Gil was glaring at the wall, pouting and looking a mix gratified and flustered. But if Gil was hoping that would make Oz stop he was wrong. Instead, Oz decided the goal had shifted to who could cause the other to make a bigger fool of themselves in front of their friends. He pushed at Gil's ankle again with the tip of his boot to test, and the man pushed back softly in warning.

Ehe~

How red could he get Gil's face to turn, Oz mused.

Break and Sharon seemed to have assumed something close to what was going on, but made no comment further than an exchanged whisper amongst themselves and some soft chuckling.

They were probably making bets, and Alice was ignoring them all for her cake now, so Oz didn't even bother hiding his smirk as he stabbed his fork into what was left of his cake and lifted his foot with devious intent.

Gil noticed the look and tensed, quickly moving to close his legs but not quick enough- trapping Oz's foot between his thighs and emitting a barely audible squeak.

Gil's glare burned fiercely into the wall, fingers tapping more anxiously against table, and blush burning hot on his face. That just _wouldn't do._ He knew his dear friend could get at least two shades darker in the face.

Oz wiggled his foot and Gil clenched his legs tighter, the tapping of his fingers growing louder.

Gil was being so obvious it was a wonder he didn't realize it, but Oz was having too much fun to ruin it by horrifying Gil if he pointed it out.

_Just a little further and..._

At this point Gilbert was wondering if it would be wiser for his mental health to just jump up and run out of the room. But Oz was messing with _there_, and it just wasn't right to mess with _there_, in so many ways, and if he let Oz win by playing with _there_ then Oz might think it okay to use _that_ against him and, and-!

'_Aha!'_ Oz nearly shouted aloud in triumph when his foot managed to move forward the last couple inches between the his friend's thighs. Not enough to hurt, Oz was a boy himself after all, but enough to be certain he couldn't be ignored. Gil made the most peculiar strangled noise and turned so red Oz wondered if the game would end from Gil passing out.

This was undoubtedly the perfect time to make things harder for the frozen servant.

"Oh my, Gilbert. Your face is terribly red, are you feeling well?" Break asked with heavily mocked-concern.

"A-actually... I..." Gilbert eyed the door nervously and Oz glared.

"Gil is fine! Aren't you, Gil?" Oz smiled widely and Gil gulped, shuddering as he shrank back into his seat grudgingly.

"...y-yeah...," came the weak reply. Did Oz really have to keep his foot there? Had he done something to upset the boy lately? Because this was much, much worse teasing than normal. Gilbert felt like his sanity was slipping away with each passing moment of pressure and teatime was just _no place_ for this at _all,_ and-

"Oh~?" Break hummed with amusement.

"I don't think we heard you, Gil. Speak up?" To emphasize his point, Oz shifted his foot with a wide grin.

But then Gil did something that Oz had somehow overlooked the possibility of that completely threw him off guard and had him frozen in place.

He _moaned_.

It was a pitiful, strained noise- but Gil's cheeks flushed darker and then he tossed his head to the side, biting his lip with a whimper, and-yeah. Oz felt his face heat and suddenly he was the one with desire to run for the door, all mischief turned to hesitance. He wasn't even sure if the noise had been from pain or- or what, but, but it... That hadn't been his intention at _all,_ and he suddenly felt really, really stupid.

Sharon looked about to faint, Break looked like he'd struck blackmail gold, and Alice, thank god, looked oblivious.

Gilbert, looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Unsure if it was secondhand embarrassment from Gil or embarrassment at his own careless actions, either way Oz immediately withdrew his limbs and hid what he could of his face behind his teacup- coughing in further gracelessness when he realized the liquid had turned cold. In the back of his mind some voice tossed out the word _masochist _with obscure enthusiasm but he could barely hear it over the pulsing sound of blood pounding in his ears.

Mutual forfeit seemed like a good idea right about then.

Once Oz had composed himself enough, he dared a glance across the table to see how Gilbert was fairing. Narrowed eyes greeted him and he winced.

Gil was glowering purposely at him with a hand clamped resolutely over his mouth as if it could keep in noises already long since escaped and the remnants of his humiliated blush fading from his cheeks.

But then Gil looked away, crossing his arms to scowl at the wall, looking thoroughly offended and well on his way into a brooding tantrum. Oz frowned, suddenly concerned that Gil might actually get legitly upset with him.

Game already foiled, there was no use in keeping quiet about it, so Oz quietly spoke up to apologize.

"Gil."

No response.

"_Gil_."

Not _again_.

Desperate not to fall into the same guilty drama as the last time Gil had gotten mad at him, and annoyed in general, Oz did the first thing he could think of to get Gil's immediate reaction.

Oz placed both palms flat against the table and kicked Gil flat in the shin without a second thought.

"Ow!"

_-thunk-_

"What was that for!?"

_-thwack-_

"What did _I_ do-"

Gil reached down to grab at Oz's ankle to prevent more bodily harm, not that Oz was kicking all that hard, and Oz squirmed to regain balance and nearly toppled himself off his chair

"I was trying to say I was sorry-"

"How is that an apology!?"

"Stop doing things I can't see! I'll kick you both!" Alice sudden yelled, pointing silverware at the two of them accusingly.

"Oh, _my_." Break exclaimed, sounding hideously delighted.

"_Children_." Sharon pressed further, her voice so sickeningly sweet and scolding that everyone froze and glanced back at her wearily.

"My, I wouldn't presume anyone would continue a ruckus that could disrupt _teatime_." Came the sugary threat from behind a dainty, lace gloved hand. Looking closely they could see a miniscule splash of tea had been spilled from her cup onto the table during all the commotion beneath it.

Everyone dejectedly settled back into their seats, subdued, as Sharon hummed demurely into the lip of her teacup.

There was a stretch of peaceful- or awkward, depending on how you looked at it- silence at the table, then.

Silence with them never did last long though.

Oz laughed quietly to himself at the ridiculousness of it all. It was a bit nostalgic how the strangest little things hadn't changed in all the years he'd missed, and a pleasant surprise when the little things that _had_ were actually positive.

With an exaggerated grin and a sore leg, Oz lifted his boot to poke Gil in the ankle.

Gilbert nearly broke his teacup slamming it down onto the table, and Alice threw a spoon and a fork at the both of their heads in confused aggravation.

"Stop being so weird!"

A lost cause, the lot of them.

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-End.

(TL;DR = Oz and Gil suck at playing footsie.

And look, something from me that wasn't porn, huzzah!)


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